You Make My Dreams Come True
by Penelope Cross
Summary: You've been pining after an Oscar since you got into this crazy business they call show.  You've been wanting one for years.  You've been secretly striving for it and now you've got one, well, a nomination.  Drabble.


**AN**: I could totally write a story around this and may one day, given the time. I love the Oscars and Brittana. Thus:

* * *

><p>You can't believe it's finally happened.<p>

A fucking Oscar.

An Academy Award.

It's like a fucking dream come true.

You've been pining after an Oscar since you got into this crazy business they call show. You've been wanting one for years. You've been secretly striving for it and now you've got one, well, a nomination.

You're still smiling so big your face hurts when you step into the shower and pull the black curtain closed behind you. You can barely hear Brittany in the other room talking excitedly on the phone. You already called everyone important. Your mom, dad, brother. Quinn. You were surprised when you got a call from Rachel Berry, screaming a congratulations in your ear.

Well, not too surprised, you did the same when you saw her nomination for that Tony two years ago.

The water is warm. Your hair becomes smooth and more condensed as it soaks in. You grab your shampoo bottle off the wrack and hold it in your hands. You stare at it for a long time.

You can't believe you got nominated.

"Wow," you say. You close your eyes and imagine you're in your dress, you're up on stage, the lights are shining bright on you. Everyone is waiting to hear what you have to say. Best Actress.

You glance to the side. You can see the bathroom door pushed just to and can hear Brittany in the bedroom still talking on the phone. Her voice muffled through the steam.

You clutch the shampoo bottle and let yourself believe it's an Oscar, _your _Oscar.

"First," you begin, voice low. (You would die if Brittany overheard you.) "I'd like to thank the Academy for giving me this, no, for fulfilling my dreams." You smile to yourself because you know you're being silly but the idea of making an acceptance speech has your stomach tangled in knots. It's _so close_ to actually happening. You're right there on the cusp of it all.

"I'd like to thank everyone who has put faith and effort into this film. The script is so special and I know when I read it and my costars read it we knew it was special. We knew it needed to happen. I think everyone knew that." You're surprised that the words just seem to roll of your tongue. It's like they've been waiting there forever. You smile and clutch the shampoo bottle and continue. "Darren's mastery at direction, Lisa's amazing acting that always left me breathless and struggling to be just as good. Mark's acting which always keeps you watching and his off screen attitude that always kept us smiling."

You stop and close your eyes, you wonder if you'd have enough time to say thanks to everyone who helped you. "So many people dedicated so much time and effort to this, so that people could experience this story and love it the way we did. This award is for them because without their dedication I wouldn't be here."

You pause and replay what you've said in your head. It's a lot of words. A lot of really good words. You smile wider and laugh softly to yourself. You can't believe you got nominated for an Oscar. You squirt some shampoo into your hand and work it into your hair.

"I'd also like to thank Brittany. You're the love of my life, you're my muse. You're my everything, my only thing. You make the worst days easy and the easy days adventures. Without you –"

"San?" Brittany's voice asks from the bathroom door.

You jump, your heart pounding furiously. "Yeah, Britt?" You say, trying to feign a normal voice. You feel heat in your face from being caught. You close your eyes and pray she didn't heard you.

"Were you talking to me?" She asks innocently.

"No, just uh," you swallow hard and try to think quickly. "I have so many people I need to call still, trying to remember."

"Oh, well, I called my parents, they're so excited," Brittany says. "But I'm going to get Chinese to celebrate. You want the usual?"

"Yeah, that sounds great," you say. You peek around the shower curtain. "Thanks, babe."

She smiles at you, so soft. "Anything for you. I can't believe it finally happened, San." She says it like it's her dream, too. You know what she means, when she got her big choreography break you felt like your wildest dreams had come true. The lines between the two of you have become so blurred over the years.

"I know, babe," you say, rinsing your hair.

/

There's a lot more to being nominated than you had anticipated.

You have more interviews than you've ever had before. They all ask the same questions, wish you luck, tell you that they loved your film. You're pretty sure only half have actually watched it and only about three of that half appreciated it. It doesn't matter, though. You're getting press.

You also have to go to the Governor's Dinner. You forgot about it, that all of the nominees go to some big fancy dinner to celebrate each other. You forgot about all of the things that are required of you now. The special appearances and dinners and meet and greets. It feels like a lot.

You love the excitement of it all, though.

The anticipation though, waiting for the actual night, is killing you.

/

Your stylist already picked out your dress and asked you what your date would be wearing. She wants to coordinate their outfit with yours.

You slap your hand to your forehead at her words and she jumps. She's staring at you like you're crazy as you dig through your purse and pull out your phone. You tap the name at the top of your favorites list.

It rings three times before she answers. "Hey, San."

"Will you be my date to the Academy Awards?" You ask in one breath.

You're pretty sure her laugh is the greatest sound in the world. It still gives you butterflies, waiting for her to answer when you ask her on a date.

"Of course," she says sweetly.

"Well, awesome, I'll have Claire find a dress for you," Santana says.

"It better be gorgeous. Prettier than yours," Brittany jokes.

"Everything always looks better on you, B.," you tell her in earnest. You feel heat in your face when you realize your stylist is listening to your conversation.

"Everything always looks better off of you, S.," Brittany teases.

Your heart skips a beat and those butterflies in your stomach go crazy. You smile into the phone. "I guess we'll see about that later," you say, clearing your throat.

"Oh we will," she promises. "Love you."

"Love you, too," you say, ending the call. You turn to look at your stylist who is smiling at you like you're holding the cutest puppy in the world. "What?" Your voice is accusatory.

"You're too cute," she says.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms. It doesn't matter, you can't just wipe away the smile Brittany's caused. "Just find the perfect dress for her, okay? She has to look better than me."

"I thought everything always looks better on her," she jokes, taking a sip of her soy latte.

"Oh shut up."

/

Everything is a blur. You don't remember half of the things you've said as you walked down the red carpet. You vaguely remember telling someone from _E_ who you're wearing. You told someone from _Good Morning, America_ that your date is Brittany as you pulled her close. You remember all of the noise, people yelling and watching, all of the other celebrities, friends.

And then you're being ushered to your seat. Brittany is there with you the entire time. She holds your hand so tight that it starts to hurt.

You don't ask her to stop, you feel like it's the only thing keeping your feet on the ground.

/

When Meryl Streep walks across the stage you feel your heart jump to your throat. You clutch onto Brittany's hand. This is it. Your heart beat is the only thing you hear as she calls off the nominees. When you hear your name you feel like you've forgotten how to breath.

You can't believe it's actually happening.

You can't believe you've gone from Lima Heights Adjacent to here.

You look over, Brittany is watching the stage, she looks more nervous than you. You can't believe she's been here the entire time. You can't believe you got past everything, all of the bullshit, and she's still here. Sitting beside and holding your hand.

When she turns to look at you, her mouth open in a wide smile, you don't get it.

Noise erupts around you, applause. You look around and the rest of the cast is standing and cheering for you. Brittany is pulling you to your feet. She wraps her arms around you and whispers in your ear, "You won."

Your heart literally stops beating for a second and everything feels muffled. You kiss Brittany quickly on the lips because you're pretty sure it's the only thing that will keep your from fainting. Then you're walking towards the stage on what feels like clouds.

When you reach the stairs you're terrified of falling up them and making a fool of yourself. Luckily, someone grabs your arm and helps you up. You barely feel your body as you walk across the stage.

Meryl Fucking Streep hands you the gold statue and the envelope with your name in it.

It weighs so much more than you thought it would. It's cold and you clutch it tightly. When you step in front of the microphone the room goes quiet.

You open your mouth and stare at the faceless statue. You laugh, a horrible nervous laugh. It ripples through the crowd and you're glad, it feels like people are on your side.

"Oh my god," you say and hear your voice reverberate around you. "I practiced what I would say on the off chance I won in my shower." A scatter of laughter. "But I forgot what I had practiced now." More laughs and a smattering of applause.

"Okay," you say, finally tearing your eyes away from the statue. "Who do I thank? Everyone involved. Darren, Lisa, the amazing writer Colette." You stop for a second. "So many people put so much faith in us and I'm so, so happy that they're getting recognized for it tonight. So much work went into this film. So much love."

You pause and find Brittany in the audience. She's wiping at the corner of her eye and you feel tears begin to prickle at yours, too.

"Thank you for sticking with me through everything, Brittany," you say into the microphone, staring at her. She places a hand over her heart. "I love you more than anything. I wouldn't be anywhere without you. You're my everything. You said it was my dream come true to get this nomination." You pause and shake your head, staring at her. "You're my dream come true, every day. This is for you, babe." You watch her and want nothing more to abandon the stage and the lights and applause that's echoing around you to go to her. "Thank you," you say into the microphone as you're ushered off the stage.

/

They lead you down a hallway with pictures of past Oscar winners hanging on the walls. You talk to people, important people you guess, but you can't really register what's being said. All you want is to get back to Brittany. You want to take Brittany home and spend the rest of the night finding the perfect place to put your Oscar. On the bookshelf in your study, on the mantle, in the bedroom, on your nightstand, maybe in the kitchen? You don't care.

Then they do the most unexpected thing, they throw you into a room full of yelling paparazzi and flashing cameras. You're smiling so wide that you don't even have to try and keep up appearances. People are yelling questions at you left and right and you aren't sure what to do.

"Is Brittany your partner?"

"Is this an official coming out?"

"How does it feel to win your first Oscar?"

You shake your head and clutch onto the heavy, golden statue. "Brittany is the love of my life," you say.

The flashes click so fast, one after another, that you're a little blinded. You feel dazed anyway. All you want to do is get back to the girl of your dreams and share this dream with her.


End file.
